


Flower Festival

by justanotherbusyfangirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-07 18:15:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16858936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanotherbusyfangirl/pseuds/justanotherbusyfangirl
Summary: Sam really doesn’t want to cover the local flower festival - he’s a much too serious reporter for silly things like that.





	Flower Festival

_Seriously_?  Sam thought to himself, parking his car in the first empty spot he could find.  He looked out across the park, which was usually filled with green grass and children playing, but right now was covered in booths and flowers and…ugh.

Sam turned toward the passenger seat to organize his bag, making sure that his notepad and favorite pen were tucked inside.  He was a reporter for the local paper, usually assigned to cover what he considered to be serious subjects, such as politics, local businesses, or any current events happening in their area.

Today, however, his editor had decided to assign him to a story he had absolutely no interest in.

The local flower festival was this weekend.

Sam sighed, opening his car door and getting out.  Hopefully he could get a quote or two, quickly write up some frou-frou 500-word piece about how great it smelled or how pretty the flowers were, and be on with his life in just an hour or so.  This definitely wouldn’t be added to his portfolio if he were to apply to a paper in a larger city.  This would be one of those articles that would fade into memory – or better yet, disappear from all memory.

Sam closed his door and looked around again, trying to figure out where the festival’s headquarters were.  He had the name of the organizer written on a post-it in the office…but he left that on his desk.  It was probably the sincere lack of interest that had led to that slip-up.

The name started with an R or something, but truthfully Sam couldn’t even remember if it was a man or woman.  Whatever, he could figure it out.

Sam walked across the grass, aiming for a table that looked like it was the sign-in table.  They would probably be able to answer questions, maybe even provide a good enough quote for the article so he could leave even quicker.

Just as Sam was two steps away from the table, he heard a laugh.  Usually laughs didn’t catch him off-guard, but this one was enchanting.  He looked around, desperate to find the person whose laugh had gotten his attention.

Just fifteen or twenty feet away from him stood a woman, her long, wavy, bright red hair helping her easily stand out from everyone around her.  She had a huge smile on her face and was obviously the one who had laughed.

And then she laughed again and he couldn’t help the smile that formed on his own face in response.

Sam abandoned his mission toward the sign-in table, walking right by it and up to the red-headed woman.  He didn’t have anything going through his mind until he was standing right in front of her (looking down at her from probably a whole foot and a half over her head) and realized that he had nothing to say.

The woman looked up at him, smiling brightly.  “Hello there, giant,” she greeted him, cheer behind her nickname.   He smiled, surprised at her Scottish accent but loving it all the same. 

“Hey there,” Sam said lamely, wishing that his talent with words on paper would translate to flirting.

“Are you here for the festival?” she asked him, waving the people away with whom she’d been previously talking.  Sam looked after them sheepishly, but quickly remembered his task at the festival – in the least, writing an article would give him something to talk to this beautiful woman about.

“Yeah, actually,” Sam said, brandishing his notepad.  “I’m covering the festival for the local paper.  My name is Sam.”

The woman’s face brightened, her hands clapping together in what could only be excitement.  “Oh!  Well isn’t that just bonny!  My name is Rowena MacLeod, and this is my festival!”

Sam could have thanked the gods for this gift – the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen was one that he’d been looking to get an interview with.

“Ms. MacLeod, would you have a moment to chat with me, then?”  Sam asked, putting as much honey in his voice as he could.   Anything to entice her to spend time with him.

“Oh, please,” she responded, putting her hand on his arm.  “Call me Rowena.”

With that, she led him toward a coffee stand where he bought her a drink before the two of them found a bench to sit on.  Sam didn’t feel bad in the least that he kept Rowena away from her festival for the next two hours, and he was sure to have enough information to write the grandest article on any flower festival ever written.

Not to mention that he left the festival with a brand new number in his phone, looking forward to their date planned the following weekend.


End file.
